


Caution (Into the Wind)

by GoldenUsagi



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Demons, Gen, Magical Realism, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 13:50:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2695322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenUsagi/pseuds/GoldenUsagi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During a restless walk, John stumbles across a recently summoned demon trapped in a containment circle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caution (Into the Wind)

**Author's Note:**

> Entanglednow and I have decided that we will each try to write one fic a month where Sherlock is some sort of supernatural creature. Be sure to check out her [demon!Sherlock fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2695220) as well!
> 
> Beta'd by entanglednow and verdant_fire.

John was aimlessly walking the London night when the silent explosion happened.

A building ahead of him lit up with blinding white light, illumination pouring out of every window before they all shattered in a tinkling of glass. The light lasted precisely two seconds before it died like it had never existed. The sound of breaking glass was the only noise that accompanied the entire event.

Silent explosions were always the result of black magic. John was far from an expert, but he had quite a bit more knowledge in recognising and categorising the occult than most people did. The Army had seen to that.

Anyone would be able to recognise that something bad had just happened, but John had seen bad things before, and no magic he’d ever encountered had produced quite that much power or damage after the fact.

Which meant that something _really_ bad had just happened.

He should call the police and report it, get one of the special squads in to investigate. The sooner these things were started, the better. He wasn’t exactly in a populated area; no one else might have even seen it.

John tightened his grip on his cane, reaching for his phone with his other hand. He paused mid-gesture. Then his hand moved further back, brushing the gun tucked into the back of his trousers.

John paused longer.

He should just call 999 and report the incident. He should.

He really should.

John pulled his gun out and clicked off the safety, walking with purpose toward the building. A steady hum of excitement ran through him, and he tried to feel worse about the fact that he suddenly felt better than he had in months.

The door swung open easily at his touch, and John listened for noises from within before cautiously entering himself. To his surprise, he found that the light switch worked, and seconds after flipping it, the space was illuminated with the dull glow of nearly dead fluorescents behind plastic covers, making the whole area dim.

Even so, it was impossible not to instantly have his eyes drawn to the figure standing in the middle of the room. He was tall and pale, with a mop of wild hair and a _sharp_ cast to his face. He was in an immaculately tailored suit and looked completely out of place in a disused building.

Then John noticed the containment circle around him and the pile of smoking organic matter a metre or so away from him. It was uncomfortably person-sized, like what might result from a cremation gone slightly wrong.

The man in the circle was watching him—had been watching him ever since he stepped through the door, John realised.

John squared his shoulders and slowly approached. He stopped a good four metres away, uncomfortably eyeing the human remains that sat just outside the circle.

The demon—because that’s clearly what it was—looked almost disappointed in him.

“Perhaps I should mention, _I_ didn’t kill him.” His voice was deeper than John expected.

John tried to hide his surprise at being spoken to. From what he understood, summoned demons were incredibly reticent and disobliging, if not outright belligerent.

“Right,” John said, not even trying to keep the scepticism out of his voice. “Because the demon is never the murderer.”

The demon sighed. “If you would only _observe_. This man died outside the circle. I am currently inside the circle. It’s a well-known fact that we’re powerless while trapped. Furthermore, if I had, by some miracle, managed to kill him while confined, there would be nothing to stop me from doing the same to you this very instant. Yet here you are.”

John accepted that logic, mainly because containment circles never failed if done correctly. Still, that didn’t rule out the demon somehow tricking the person into causing their own death. John didn’t get any closer.

“So what happened to him?”

“He was unskilled, unable to handle the amount of energy required to summon _me_. After my arrival, it had nowhere to go and he was not capable of directing it. It literally consumed him.”

John knew that was possible, in theory. Necromancy was not something to play around with. All forms of magic were illegal, given that all forms of magic seemed to be designed to communicate with things that humans shouldn’t really be communicating with. Everyone knew about summonings and black magic in a broad sense, and it was a popular theme in television and movies. But in general, actual instances of it were incredibly rare occurrences and only those in law enforcement or government had first-hand dealings with the aftermath.

“That was the most powerful release of energy I’ve ever seen,” John said.

“Yes, and you were in the Army.”

“How did you know—?”

“Oh, there are a hundred little things, if one only knows how to look.” His gaze quickly swept over John, as if he were reading all of John’s secrets. Then he paused, a small smirk playing in one corner of his mouth. “There’s also the extremely obvious fact that you’re holding your service weapon.”

“Right,” John said to himself more than anything. He still held his gun ready at his side; the feel of it was so automatic in his hand that he almost consciously forgot about it.

Distantly, he heard the sound of sirens.

“I’m going to ask you to let me out,” the demon said.

John laughed without humour. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

“What if I promise not to harm you?”

“I wouldn’t believe you.”

The demon stared at him, seeming unsurprised. Then he gave John a shrewd look, before shrugging carelessly. “Then you might as well shoot me in the head.”

“What?”

“Your weapon. It’s standard Army issue, which means that every third bullet in your round is consecrated.”

“I’m not—just going to _shoot you_ ,” John stammered.

“No,” he agreed. “Because you have a strong moral principle. Otherwise you would have dispatched me the second you entered the room. You’ve seen horrors perpetrated by your kind and horrors beyond imagination perpetrated by mine, but it doesn’t sit right with you to kill a being who’s done nothing to you or those you protect.”

John looked down, if only to break the intense stare the demon was giving him. He couldn’t deny the truth of the words, but he wasn’t sure where that left him. He eyed the intricate chalk containment circle, shaking his head.

“I can’t. I’m sorry. Look, you’re right about—all that, but I can’t let you out.” John might not have a problem walking into danger, but he wasn’t suicidal. People didn’t just let demons out and get to _walk away_ afterwards. There had never been a recorded instance of a summoning or binding gone wrong that resulted in anything but death.

He glanced uneasily at the pile of ashes again. “Why did he summon you?”

“He didn’t, actually. Oh, he did, but he didn’t mean to. That’s what happens when you don’t know the correct name to use. It’s not surprising he got me instead; Moriarty and I are like two sides to the same coin.” The demon followed John’s gaze to the remains. “He’s fortunate that he got me, all things considered. Moriarty would have eaten him alive and picked his teeth with the bones.”

“And you?”

“I’ve never cared for eating,” he said evenly. “And pointless destruction is _dull_.”

John raised an eyebrow, hearing the words that weren’t being said. “And if you thought the destruction had a point?”

The demon gave him a sharp grin. “That would be a different story, then. I usually manage to get what I want through other means, but if needs must. And I’m careless when I’m bored, as well.” Then he folded his hands behind his back, cocking his head to the side for a moment. “You do realise, of course, that those sirens are coming here,” he said, giving John a pointed look. “And that those cars will contain people who won’t hesitate to execute me on sight.”

John was starting to wish he’d never come in here. He really should just turn and walk away.

But leaving someone to their death was no better than killing them himself. No—not _someone_ , John reminded himself, _something_. And that was the problem. Demons were dangerous—beyond dangerous, really. It was true that John had the special bullets in his gun, but demons were _fast_ ; they tended to warp the reality around them. If John was close enough to let the demon out, he wouldn’t stand a chance, wouldn’t even have time to fire if the demon attacked him.

“Can’t you just… go back to where you came from?”

“Not while I’m bound.”

John let the room fall into silence. He could hear the sirens, louder now.

The demon cleared his throat. “While it does, of course, speak volumes to your intelligence not to believe any assurances I offer, it’s particularly inconvenient to me. I would have almost preferred you be an idiot who was easily persuaded. And while I don’t have any particular fear of death, I would rather it not occur until much later. Normally I would make you offers of whatever you desire, but you’re clearly not going to be swayed by such trivialities. My only hope is appealing to your better nature, so I ask again: will you set me free? Or will you indirectly take part in my death?”

There was another beat of silence. “I don’t trust you,” John said.

“You would be a fool to do so, I agree. I’m infinitely more powerful than you, and you would be at my mercy the instant you broke the circle.”

“Really not helping your case here,” John said under his breath.

The demon held John’s gaze. “I am what I am. Why should I pretend to be otherwise? I’ve already said I won’t harm you, but it’s true you have absolutely no reason to believe me.”

John stared back at him, and found himself staring into a face it seemed he’d seen a hundred times before. He’d seen it in Afghanistan, the faces of men on the table, men who knew they were going to die but who desperately looked for a way out even as they were taking their last breaths. 

John exhaled and looked at the ceiling, like he was going to find an answer up there.

Surprisingly, he did.

He laughed, the sound stark and abrupt. The next second, he turned on his heels, tucked his gun back into his waistband, and walked toward the door.

He paused before exiting and pulled the fire alarm. The sprinkler system immediately activated.

John turned and looked back at the demon, who was actually gaping at him in wonder. 

“A fair chance,” John said to him, raising his voice to carry over the sound of the alarm.

The containment circle would either wash away before the special forces arrived, or it wouldn’t.

John opened the door and walked into the night.

\-----

The next day, stories about the silent explosion were all over the news. Some teenager who had been hanging out on top of his building’s roof streets away managed to capture a blurry video of the light streaming out the windows through sheer dumb luck. Of course, he had immediately uploaded it to YouTube.

In general, the authorities preferred to take care of any incidents as discreetly as possible, but once the lid was off of something, it was off. The police had more or less been forced to give an account of the proceedings in order to calm the public down.

The official word was that it was a summoning gone wrong that killed the practitioner.

John couldn’t help but notice that there was no mention of a demon being eliminated. That would have been mentioned; that was always big news.

He must have escaped, then.

There was also no mention—even over the next several days—of renewed demonic activity. Which meant that the demon John had inadvertently freed was not running amok.

Though the idea that there were demons out there who were intelligent enough to hide in plain sight, instead of rampaging when they got free, gave him a slight chill. The idea that it was probably the oldest and most powerful ones who might do that didn’t help.

On the third evening after his encounter, there was a furious pounding at the door to his flat.

John tucked his gun into his trousers and slowly opened the door. He found the demon in the hallway, rocking back and forth on his heels.

He clapped his hands together when he saw John. “Someone else has tried to summon Moriarty. We need to move quickly if we’re going to catch them. We either need to permanently disband his acolytes, or allow them to summon him and then get rid of him. If he descends to this plane, he can be killed. Bring your gun.”

John stood there for a second, dazed, wondering how the demon had found him, what he could possibly want a human along for, if he was planning on doing some destruction with a point anytime in the near future, and why on earth he thought John would be up for some midnight vigilante work.

John opened his mouth to say any and all of those things, but what came out instead was, “I don’t even know your name.”

“Sherlock,” the demon said, freely giving it as he held out a hand.

John took it. “John.”

Sherlock smiled, gesturing down the hallway. “Shall we, then?”

John raised his brows and remained unmoving.

Sherlock wasn’t deterred, looking at John in anticipation and nearly vibrating with excitement on the doorstep.

John knew there were a thousand reasons why this was a bad idea. He shouldn’t do it.

He really shouldn’t.

John closed his door, falling into place beside Sherlock as he started to walk. “This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever done,” he muttered.

Sherlock smirked. “And you set a demon free.”

That really shouldn’t have been as funny as it was, considering the circumstances. John tried not to laugh, but failed miserably when Sherlock joined in.

Stepping outside, he gave up on keeping a grin off his face as he followed Sherlock into the night.


End file.
